The years of my youth, my sensual life—
how clearly I see their meaning now.
How needless the repentance, how futile...
But I didn’t see the meaning then.
In the loose living of my early years
the impulses of my poetry were shaped,
the boundaries of my art were laid down.
That’s why the repentance was so fickle.
And my resolutions to hold back, to change,
lasted two weeks at the most.
Reprinted from C.P. CAVAFY: Collected Poems Revised Edition, translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, edited by George Savidis. Translation copyright © 1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Princeton University Press. For reuse of these translations, please contact Princeton University Press.
The Canon